The Little Eccentricities
by The Last Poison Apple
Summary: Admit it, you always wondered about what's on this girl's mind. A collection of 20 drabbles from Luna Lovegood's perspective.
1. First Drabble: Pears

**I am on a roll! Welcome to the first of The Little Eccentricities, a collection of 20 drabbles written for the 20 Prompts, 20 Drabbles Challenge down at HPFC. Each drabble is to be no longer than 500 words long, and will each be centered around a different prompt. They will almost certainly all be unrelated, and if one somehow relates to another, it will be mentioned in the brief AN I always put on top. I was handed the character Luna Lovegood to work with, and she's been great so far!**

**Well, I hope you enjoy!**

**Prompt: Pears**

**Word Count: 293**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

Luna stood in front of the portrait of the pears, frowning so slightly that it would be nearly imperceptible to anyone who noticed her. It was a curious thing, really, that one would tickle the pears to get into the kitchens. Why would anyone want to tickle the pears? Pears were very sensitive creatures, after all, and who knew what tickling them could do?

You didn't simply tickle a pear. That was rude. They weren't owls, or cats, or toads, or any other animal, for that matter. Pears were different. They weren't your common animal, they were _pears_. And daddy had once said that pears should always be treated with the utmost respect, because it was believed that the dirigible plum was some sort of distant cousin of the pear. And dirigible plums were especially great fruit. Why, you could make excellent juice from them. The crumple-horned snorkacks certainly agreed.

She heard a shout float down the corridor towards her, and the loud pattering of chasing footsteps. "Oi! Come back here, you!" the voice yelled.

Well, it seemed the Inquisitorial Squad had caught up. Luna sighed, deciding that desperate times called for desperate measures. She briefly tickled one of the pears, and the doors to the kitchens swung open.

She stepped through, letting the portrait swing shut behind her. A dozen house elves were immediately there beside her, asking her what they could do for her.

"I'm in a bit of trouble," she said lightly. "You see, I wandered down here on a walk, but I don't feel so good… I don't suppose one of you could perhaps help send me back up to the Ravenclaw Tower?"

When Pansy Parkinson stormed into the kitchens moments later, Luna Lovegood was nowhere to be seen.


	2. Second Drabble: Production

**Hello, my lovelies! I'm back with another drabble. It really should have been done sooner, but it's been a busy time for me.**

**So! The prompt for this one was "Production" and this just came out. I'm not sure why. In no way was this written with romance in mind. Just thought I'd clear that up. This one is 226 words.  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

She wonders what it's like for George now.

From what the Nargles are saying, no one has seen hide nor hair of him since he left the Burrow the other day, though Ginny claims he's just in the joke shop. Says he wants to be alone.

And she understands. When you lose someone, it's not easy to let go of them. You start to cling to everything you have left, you start to lose yourself in trying to find them.

These things happen.

All the same, Luna can't help but feel a tad bit worried; it's not easy to go through the process of losing someone all alone. When her mum went, she had her dad, and the Wrackspurts; George has sealed himself up in the joke shop, thrown himself into the production of (if the Yellow-Snouted Pigwit is to be believed) joke wands.

And that's what Luna comes to the Burrow to find one day, on one of her visits: George, at the dinner table, waving his wand over a pile of what Luna can only assume are joke wands like the ones he used to make with Fred, because when Molly picks one up carelessly and it turns into a rubber chicken in her hand (it looks oddly like a Gringnut, though) that's when the production of something precious starts.

The production of tears.


	3. Third Drabble: Pin Up

**So... This is the next one. Woefully overdue, but I've been in the middle of finals and since I've got a couple of days off before my last paper, I thought I'd just get this out. I actually quite like this one. Mmhmm.**

**Enjoy!**

**Prompt: Pin Up  
**

**Word Count: 176  
**

* * *

Luna was looking for them again.

She didn't mind looking for them, really, but she'd wish people would at least tell her they'd taken them so she had time to search for them before classes. Really, some people could be just so inconsiderate.

Biting her lip, she continued poking her head around the Ravenclaw tower. If this went on much longer, she'd be late for first period Charms, and being late was probably rude as well. Professor Flitwick might sympathize if she told him her shoes had been hidden (_again!_) but all the same, she'd rather it not go that way. She didn't want to miss anything.

"Hey, Luna!"

Luna took her head out from the fireplace and looked over to where the voice had come from. She gave a pleasant smile when she saw it was Padma, who grinned back.

"You wouldn't happen to be looking for these, would you?" Padma asked, jerking her thumb at the notice board.

Right there, pinned up neatly under the announcement for the next Hogsmeade trip, were Luna's shoes.


	4. Fourth Drabble: Search

**Here's the next one! (It's very nearly late. Oops. I have got to stop doing this.) This is set during the one hour Voldemort gave Harry to turn up at the Forbidden Forest in DH, during the Battle of Hogwarts. I don't really know what to think of this one, either. It just happened. As my drabbles all seem to do.**

**Prompt: Search**

**Word Count: 137**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.  
**

* * *

Luna didn't quite understand why she insisted on searching for Harry either.

Harry was strong, of course. He had to be –he _was_ the Chosen One, and as much as it attracted the heart-tugging Fracklenouts, Harry had a job to do. And he knew it.

One would naturally, then, expect that Harry would need some time alone to anchor himself, but there was something odd about Harry as he left. Harry was a natural fighter. It was in his blood, in his nature. But as he walked out of the Great Hall, Luna noticed his back was slumped, his movements sluggish. _He was still a fighter_, Luna thought, _but he was a defeated one_.

With her friends at her side, Luna left the Great Hall and ran out into the night, in search of the Chosen One.


	5. Fifth Drabble: Slip

**I am really bad with commitment. That I have learned.**

**To be honest, I don't quite like this one, but... oh well. It's better than nothing, I suppose.  
**

**Edit: I forgot to mention this. This drabble takes place post-HBP, when Luna gets her OWL results.  
**

**Prompt: Slip**

**Words: 204**

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

Luna stared at the slip of parchment the owl had brought. Absently, she stroked the owl's feathers, barely noticing it when the white-feathered bird turned its neck and nipped her on her finger. Her eyes scanned over the results, barely seeming to take them in before she put it down on the table and walked off in search of the owl treats. If her memory served, they'd be in the cabinet under the kitchen sink… Right… There. She pulled the small cardboard box out, and offered some to the brown owl.

The owl soon had all the treats on her hand finished, and somewhere in the course of its meal it had nipped her finger once again. As the owl flew off, Luna looked back to her results. Her hand hovered over the slip of parchment –her results really were the least of her worries now, weren't they? How much did this slip really matter?

A drop of blood dripped down onto the slip, and though she immediately pulled her hand back, the damage was done. A small red splash, forever inked onto the parchment.

Luna left the parchment on the table and walked away.

The slip of paper really didn't matter at all.


	6. Sixth Drabble: Tie

**Hello, my lovelies! Did you miss me? I'm sorry I was gone for this for so long.**

**Anyway, the 20 Drabbles Competition has been dropped by the organizer. To finish it up we gave each other prompts. But since I'm taking part in the 52 Weeks Of Writing Competition, I figured I might take the prompts from there, too.**

**So, this is also my entry for Week 3 of the competition. Warning: There's a femmeslash cameo. (OTP cameos FTW!)**

**Prompt used: Tie**

**Word Count: 253**

* * *

Luna was walking back to her common room when she heard the shrieking.

"Pansy, change it back! And give me back my wand, damn it!"

She poked her head around the corner, and noticed Hermione was standing outside the Room of Requirement with a very smug Pansy Parkinson, who held a gold-and-red-striped Gryffindor tie in one hand, and a wand in the other. Hermione, curiously enough, was wearing a green-and-sliver-striped Slytherin one.

"No can do, Hermione," Pansy said, tutting. "You're the one who took my tie first."

"It was an accident!" Hermione fumbled to undo the knot of the tie she was wearing. "I reached for the wrong one, alright? And now it's not coming off."

"Of course it isn't," Pansy said, twirling Hermione's wand deliberately. "I do have your wand, you know. It's not my fault you were in such a rush."

"Harry and Ron are getting suspicious enough, Pans," Hermione said flatly. "Come on, give it back."

"Maybe if you kiss me hard enough," Pansy said slowly, as though she was seriously thinking it over. "Then I might consider."

Luna smiled to herself, and pulled her head back before she could see anything else happen. Silently she went through the list of everyone who owed her a galleon now, and, content in knowing she was fifty-nine galleons richer, she started to double back in search of another way back to Ravenclaw tower. Not before casting a silent muffliato, though. It was obvious that Pansy and Hermione wouldn't want to be disturbed.


	7. Seventh Drabble: Moon

**So, this is the seventh drabble! I've decided to use the 52 weeks of writing to just finish up this series before moving on to other oneshots and such. This is my entry for Week Four.**

**So, the prompt I used for this was _Moon_. It was a fun prompt.**

**Number of words: 247**

**_Edit:_ This takes place post-Battle of Hogwarts. I need to stop forgetting to put this in.  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

The moon was a pure, beautiful thing.

It'd been so long since Luna had looked at the moon that she had forgotten its beauty, but now, as her gaze followed the Threstals flying across the night sky –the sky that was, for the first time in months, still and peaceful –it was hard not to remember.

It was hard not to remember how everything had been so pure and beautiful, once before. How everything was like the moon, little orbs of light that lit up her otherwise dark sky. She recalled the days of the DA back in her fourth year –when her sky suddenly lit up with the brightness of the moon and a thousand more stars. She recalled the year after –how even though it was getting more dangerous, she knew she had friends to count on. How everything was still peaceful.

And then the war –it split her sky across like lightning, and the explosions of the battle disturbed the peace like thunder. Everywhere around her the lights danced in the air, and everywhere around her people fell like raindrops to the ground.

Luna looked back up to the moon. She couldn't remember when the last time she'd stood out in the open just to look up at it was. But even now, in the aftermath of the battle, one thing was still clear –the moon was a pure, beautiful thing, and someday, she knew, her sky would be stitched together and peaceful again.


	8. Eighth Drabble: Ink

**Hello my lovelies! This is Week 5's entry for the 52 Weeks of Writing down at HPFC (though we've moved to a new forum, so I don't know if it's strictly HPFC anymore...?)**

**The prompt I used for this one was Ink. It was alright.**

**Words: 285  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Note: This is a reupload because it wasn't showing up.**

* * *

Luna picked up the jar of ink, rolled it around her hand, and put it back down.

She honestly wished she could find one jar –just one jar –that held something besides air and wrackspurts. Her head was going fuzzy just from looking; too many wrackspurts had flown in and out of her ears. But such a jar was proving to be impossible to find –in the aftermath of the battle that had just taken place, it was evident that nothing had been left untouched. Every classroom was a mess, a mockery of the order that had once been.

She walked around the charms classroom. It had been trashed, completely wrecked in the battle, and Luna couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness –the charms classroom held many fond memories for her. For her, charms had been near synonymous with peace –there was something gentle about charms, a delicateness that she had always appreciated.

Walking around the tables that had been thrown around and now lay, fallen over, on the floor, made it hard for her to see remember that.

But that was not the concern at the moment. Luna wanted ink. She'd thought that she might find some here. How was she supposed to write anything down –how was she supposed to find an outlet for everything she was feeling, every loss she had witnessed, if she had nothing to record it with? She walked once around the room, and, deciding that ink would not be found here, made her way back to the door. She was nearly there when her shoe nudged something hard.

Luna looked down to see a jar of ink, its contents spilling over and pooling on the floor.


	9. Ninth Drabble: Rain

**Written for Week 7 of the 52 Weeks of Writing Competition, with the prompt rain. Post-Battle of Hogwarts.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Number of Words: 169. It's a little on the short side.**

* * *

It was raining tonight.

In her time at Hogwarts, Luna had come to love the rain –the rain gave her a rhythm to think to, and at many points, the rain was her sole companion. The rain was there when no one else was, keeping her company by beating against the window, and the rain was there when everyone else was making fun of her, keeping her distracted by overriding their taunts and jeers with its steady beat. The rain somehow was almost always there when she needed it, and she found herself longing after it in its absence.

She was glad for the rain now –she needed it now, more than ever, sitting in her old dorm room alone. No one else was up here, and she was thankful that she didn't need to look anyone in the eye tonight while she was mourning her friend's deaths. The war was over, yes, but for Luna, it felt like the worst had barely begun.

Outside, the rain raged on.


	10. Tenth Drabble: Light

**Written for the 52 Weeks of Writing Competition, week 8. I have got to stop being late.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Prompt used: Light**

**Word Count: 354**

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Every time Luna saw the light of her patronus, she felt a sense of warmth spreading throughout her.

She held on to the memory even as the bright silver hare hopped around, bouncing off walls and swerving in between people. Her memory might not have been very recent anymore, but it was strong in her mind, as though it had just been yesterday when it had happened. She had been walking down the corridors when someone had called her 'Loony' –and Ginny had been there in seconds, running around the corner and shoving her wand in the Ravenclaw's face, threatening to give him a Bat-Boogey Curse up somewhere unpleasant if he didn't stop calling her friend that.

Ginny had called her 'her friend'.

Luna clung onto the memory as though her life depended on it throughout the war –and her life did depend on it. Sometimes she felt she was so close to giving up, but then she'd remember that she had friends, and that her friends were working tirelessly to end the war that had already ended so much. The war hadn't ended her friends yet; she remained firm in her belief that her friends would conversely end the war. She had to believe, because she couldn't do anything if she didn't.

She believed in her friends now, as she was running through the corridors, waving her wand and shooting lights at the Death Eaters who threatened her home, and her friends. She kept the memory always at the back of her mind while she focused on protecting the very thing, the very people that gave her the strength to conjure a patronus in the first place.

Her friends.

It was why, when she saw the dementors approaching, she knew she'd have no trouble bringing her hare back into existence, even when everything seemed bleak and hopeless and death surrounded her on every side. She faced the dementors without shaking, took a deep breath, and said, strongly, "_Expecto Patronum._"

Her silver hare burst forth from her wand in a ball of light, zipping through bodies on the ground and pushing the dementors back.


	11. Eleventh Drabble: Sand

**Written for the 52 Weeks of Writing Competition, using the week 9 prompt _Sand_. It's exams now so I've fallen really behind but I am totally going to catch up. Just watch me. I'll make use of this little break I have in the middle of the exam period to write a bit more.**

**Takes place during the Battle of Hogwarts.**

**Word Count: 192**

* * *

The sand was falling.

All around her, grain by grain, second by second. Luna could feel it streaming past her ears, see it rushing past her eyes. She could feel herself sliding down with the sand, unable to help herself or anyone else as she was carried downwards. She shot a jinx at a Death Eater as she ran, blasting him away from a schoolmate she didn't know. A third year, she thought, from the looks of it. His hair was sticking up in odd places, and his robes looked like they'd been chewed up by a Crumpled-Horn Snorkack, but he was still alive.

If she didn't help him, though, it wouldn't be very long before he was swallowed up by the sand as well.

She doubled back, casting a shield charm and knocking a werewolf down the stairs, and Professor Trelawny, bless her soul, finished him off with a crystal ball. She then pointed her wand at the boy, levitating him over to an empty classroom and placing him behind the teacher's table.

He'd be safer there, she told herself, as she pulled herself away to save others from the sand.


End file.
